Again
by Griever5
Summary: Set in the future. Hikaru finds what he thinks he's been looking for.
1. Chapter 1

It is the name behind a name that he always defends because there is no one else to.

He stretches out his legs, take a sip of black coffee, grimace. It's already cold, a thin film forming over the stale drink.

The break room is buzzing dimly; visitors, spectators, other professionals chatting, eating.

"Nervous?" Touya drags out the chair next to him, the metal legs screeching quietly, and takes a seat.

He grunts, rolls his shoulders. It's not that he's not confident of his skills. Touya eyes the fan that he turns over repeatedly in his hands, and then glances out the window when they both hear a recognizable squeal of tires.

A sports car slides up to the front of the building, sleek crimson, turns into the parking lot.

Touya stands to make his leave. They share a brief nod.

He taps the fan against the palm of his hand, runs a thumb lightly over the worn out frame.

One of the staff members approaches, leaning over his shoulder. "It's time, sir."

He is led through the corridor to a room and as he slides the door open, a cool silence breezes over him. Light glints off a familiar pair of glasses.

He takes a seat.

The lines spread out before him are comfortable shapes cutting across his vision.

He looks up at his opponent; Ogata _Honinbou_ meets his gaze evenly.

He slides open the fan, snaps it shut.

An age-old title, a name attached to a face that only he knows.

He lowers his head, and the other man does likewise.

The first match for the _Honinbou_ title has begun.


	2. Chapter 2

He fans himself, loosens his tie. The summer heat is thick and slimy, weighing down on the fabric against his skin. Rubbing a hand across his forehead, he catches his blurred reflection in the polished hood of a car. There is a faint throb in the back of his head.

The match had been a close one. Half a _moku_ and that was it. He had won, but the look in Ogata's eyes when they announced the result cut into his flesh. It was neither anger nor frustration – it was the same calculating look that he always had, with a hint of a gleam that echoed his expression so many years ago, fist tangled in the front of his shirt, dragging him to eye level, looking through and past him to the shadow he always struggled to break free from, demanding for a game.

He crosses the street and turns to the park. The shelter of the trees is a welcome relief, and he wants to avoid the crowd of spectators spilling out of the building.

His cell phone vibrates – Touya is probably looking for him. He turns it off.

He finds a pond tucked away along a winding dirt path, flops down onto a bench. There is a duck drifting along; he swipes at his bleached bangs, brushes them out of his eyes.

Light filters through the leaves.

A couple wanders along a path on the other side of the pond. A pink stroller is pushed ahead of the assumed mother – she is shading her eyes against the light, and her husband is smiling.

The pond ripples.

The man calls out.

A child pops out from behind the bushes, clutching a ball. The mother waves the child over, shaking out a mat. The husband pulls out a picnic basket.

He sits up, stretches. He watches them lazily from the corner of his eye.

The child scrambles out from his hiding place, darts towards his parents.

Light shimmers off the surface of the water.

The child turns towards the pond, points at the duck, laughs – and laughs – and points – and…

He squeezes his eyes shut, opens them, leans forward.

The child is giggling. A familiar laugh, a familiar smile, an all-too painfully irreplaceable expression.

He gets up, stumbles at the sudden weakness in his legs. He breaks into a run, skids along the mud by the side of the pond.

The child is reaching towards to duck; an out-stretched hand.

He staggers towards them, excruciatingly slow – the family, the child, seem too far away – a mirage that could fade as suddenly as everything had before.

He lurches forward. The couple looks up. There is slight astonishment in the woman's face, and a frown shapes as the man narrows his eyes.

He knows he might just be going crazy.

He falls to his knees, seizes the child by his shoulders.

He knows that he might get arrested or attacked or both.

The child stops laughing, lifts bewildered eyes.

He knows it might be the heat from the sun.

That tilt of the head, widening of the eyes, delicate quivering lips, frail arms.

He knows it might be the weariness induced by the long game.

The child blinks, shock already evaporating.

He knows that it is impossible.

The child starts to smile.

But he knows that it's true. Right in front of his eyes.

The child holds up his ball.

Lips part. A breath.

"Sai."


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man grabs his shoulder, jerks him to his feet.

He stumbles, raises his hands in apology but does not take his eyes off the child.

The woman approaches. "What's going on?" She pulls the child away – but, but the child is still looking at him.

The man gives him a rough shake, repeats himself. Shakes him again, shoves him aside with a sharp jab. "Weirdo! Get the hell out of here, or I'll call the cops!"

He backs away. Stops.

"What you staring at!" The man raises his voice; the duck quacks, flaps its wings, waddles away for a place to hide.

"How do you know my name?"

The man is yelling while the woman is crooning concern and worry, but he can't hear them – the child's voice was what he remembered it to be if it had not broken, or if it was free of the weight of a millennium.

His lips shape the name, his voice molds the words, but his tongue stumbles – he concentrates on breathing, the pounding roar in his ears deafening.

"Saito, be quiet! Don't talk to the strange man!" The woman tucks the child in her arms, starts to lead him towards the stroller.

"Sai."

A choked word.

The child grins, wriggles free from his mother's grasp. "How do you know my name?"

"Sai."

A strange curve to the tongue, a name, a label, a face he very nearly believed was a dream.

"Yup! That's me!"

He reaches out – the man snatches at his wrist, twists it behind his back. Pain folds him over, he winces. A gasp. The man is still yelling. But he can't hear him.

"What's your name?" The child is peering up at him.

He almost forgets – there is only one word drumming against the back of his head along with his thundering heartbeat.

"Hikaru."

"It's nice to meet you!" The child holds out a hand. "Hikaru!"

He wants to take that hand. Wants so badly to grab it and not let go and follow wherever it would lead.

But the man is half-dragging him away, cell phone out, presumably calling the police. The woman takes hold of the child again, forcefully lowers his hand, and hurries him away. He sees her start to gather up their belongings.

"Sorry. Sorry." He tugs at his arm experimentally but the man is not letting go. "I don't know what came over me." He tugs again. The man shoots him a dirty look, snaps his cell phone shut.

"I already called." The man leered. "The cops are on their way." He gestures sharply at the woman and she shuffles over, cramming the rest of their picnic into a bag hanging from the stroller's handles.

"Look." He turns to the man, apologetic. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean any harm." He looks down at the hand clamped over his wrist. "Could you please let go?"

"As if I'd believe anything a dirty child moles-"

"Shindou." Touya is striding towards them, a frown and a raised eyebrow in place. "What is going on?"

"I-"

"He attacked my son!" The man holds up the captive arm. "Do you know him? Do you know him, huh? An accomplice or something?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Touya turns his frown to Hikaru. "What is going on?"

"I-"

"What seems to be the problem here?" Three police officers approach. They nod briefly to the man, scans over the rest of them. "You're the one who called?"

"Yea! This guy-" The man gives Hikaru's arm a violent shake. "-ran at us out of nowhere and grabbed my son!"

A police officer has already pulled out a notebook, and Touya is watching, arms crossed.

He shoots the child a desperate look. Eye contact.

He can't afford to lose him now. Can't afford to lose him again. All this stupid mess is getting him nowhere at all. And if he's taken away to the police station and retained, if even for a day, he may never even be able to find him again.

The man is animate in his description, pointing and shaking his fist, gesturing wildly at Hikaru.

He doesn't care. He needs to talk to Sai.

He watches for a moment; the police officer is asking for the details and the man leans forward, grip loosening.

He jerks an arm free.

"Hey-!"

Lunges forward. "Sai!" He crouches to face level for a brief second, sees a secure smile on the child's face, swings him over his shoulder, and runs.

He hears them calling out behind him, giving chase.

He picks up speed – he suddenly wishes that he exercised more. The child is bouncing on his shoulder, a shrill rippling laugh.

"Shindou!" Touya hasn't moved, watching the lunatics run around the park. He is obviously not pleased.

His feet hit gravel – he's back on the path. Fingertips claw at his back, and an officer does a stumbling dive, misses, swipes at air.

He wheezes, tries to keep his grip on the child steady.

_Oh god. I'm going to be arrested._

He swerves around a tree, ducks beneath a low-lying branch. There are curses behind him when the man smacks into it, stumbling back and crashing into the following police officer.

He finally makes it out of the park, crouches behind a car parked outside a convenience store. The child wriggles off his back, giggling.

"Shh!" He puts a finger to his lips. Nodding, the child covers his mouth with both hands, grinning widely.

A quick peek confirms that there is no one else around.

He puts his hands on the child's shoulders, turns the child towards him. There's no mistake – his hair may be short, bangs barely sweeping above his round eyes – but it is Sai. All over again.

"So…" He's unsure of what to do. Of what to say.

In fact, he's not sure what's really going on.

"You're Sai." It wasn't a question.

"Sai-to!" The child chirps. "Saito!"

He nods, runs over a few possibilities in his mind. Sai's descendant? But Sai died – perhaps, a descendant of a relative. Reincarnation? He can't be sure. He's never believed in anything supernatural before, but who's he to say anything?

"Do you remember me?"

"Never met you before, mister!"

He frowns. The child cringes, edges back. Hurriedly, he smoothes over his expression, tries a new tactic.

"Do you play Go?"

"What's that?"

Maybe not. He exhales, a heave of disappointment. He could just be deluded, and possibly now wanted by the officials for kidnapping.

"Well…" He opens his mouth, about to apologize, about to forget it all and just give up.

"Teach me!"

"What?" He blinks.

"Teach me how to play!"

"Go?" He tests out the word as if it's unfamiliar, watches for recognition on the young face. There is none, but eagerness is there, exactly the same as before.

"Yeah!"

He smiles slightly; he could work with this. And he may be crazy, but at least…

"I want ice cream!"

"Sure!" He laughs at the pout, puts a hand on the child's head, ruffles his hair. "Let's go!"

He stands, takes the child by the hand.

At least it'd be a remainder of memories he had given up on.


	4. Chapter 4

"How old are you?"

"Five!" Chocolate fudge is smudged across his cheek. His legs dangle off the chair, swinging back and forth.

He scrapes the bottom of the paper cup with his spoon, takes another quick sidelong glance. He's not good with children, never really have been – and besides, all he really knew was Go. But this was Sai, and…

He pats Saito awkwardly on the head and is replied with an ice-cream stained grin. The contact is reassuring and new. A firm solid presence that he never got to share.

"Done?"

"Yup!"

He grabs a napkin, wipes down the messy face. Saito squeals, squirms.

He tosses the napkin aside, pulls out a magnetic Go board that he bought on the way to the ice cream store. It's small, only nine by nine, but it's good enough for now.

"This is a Go board." He shakes out the magnetic pieces. "These are the stones – see, there're black and white ones."

Saito is watching, nodding.

"Here - "

"There he is!" Police officers swarm the table, two of them grabbing him by the arms and hauling him to his feet.

Touya is standing a little distance away, scowling.

"Okay. This is a mistake. I just-"

"ARREST HIM! Arrest him now!" Saito's father reappears, livid, gesturing wildly. "He was going to murder my poor son, eat him alive in some abandoned hut in the middle of the woods-"

"Sir. Calm down." A police officer starts to steer him aside. "We have the situation under control."

"Wait. Wait. Uh-"

"We're just going to have to bring you in for some questioning for now." The police officer snapping handcuffs over his wrists nods to the mother, burying the child in her arms and weeping openly. "They haven't decided to press charges yet."

"No- I just-"

"Come on then." He is marched towards a waiting police car.

"No!" The child breaks free, pelts towards Hikaru. Everyone pauses as slight confusion ensues after a collision with a knee, a wail of pain, the father darting back into the crowd to see what the commotion is and being led away again.

"He's not a bad guy!" Saito is clinging onto Hikaru's leg with fierce determination. "He was going to teach me Go!"

Silence.

"What?" Blank stares.

"What?" Touya echoes everyone else's confusion, takes a step forward.

Hikaru chuckles nervously.

"I want to learn!" Saito raises his shrill voice. "I want to learn!" Tears are welling up in his eyes.

There is a light cough, and Saito's mother approaches, dapping at her eyes with a handkerchief. She detaches Saito from his leg gently, bows in apology. "I don't want to press any charges." She keeps her head lowered. "Sorry for all this trouble as well as taking up your time."

The police officers take this as a dismissal; several warnings are issued to both Hikaru and her, and the police officer with a bruise over his eye from his encounter with a tree branch shoots him a dirty look as he joins the others in leaving. Low angry mutters as they file away.

"So…" He chews on his bottom lip. "Sorry. About all this mess."

"Well, it doesn't seem like you meant any harm." A stern look crosses over the woman's face. "And what is this about… Go?"

"I just wanted to…." He realizes that he can't think up of a good excuse. "Just wanted to…" He pulls out his fan from his back pocket, taps it against his knuckles. "Just wanted to teach him Go…?" A sheepish grin, a tilt of the head.

She is not impressed.

"He looked like he has great potential!" He adds hurriedly.

"How, exactly?"

"Mm…"

"I want to learn!" Saito interrupts, breaking his train of thought that already had its brakes cut and an engine that was on fire.

"Well…"

"Here's my card." This is familiar territory. Hikaru pulls out a name card, hands it over. "Feel free to contact me anytime. I will definitely compensate for all the trouble caused today and…"

"A Go professional?" She scans over his card. "Wow. Didn't know about this." She pockets it, nods, looks down at the expectant face staring up at her. "If Saito still wants to, I'll give you a call."

"Thank you." He is nearly breathless. He looks down at Saito, meets that gaze. _Thank you_. He mouths. The boy scrunches up his nose, grins.

The woman smiles briefly. "It's just that he's never shown much interest in anything else before."

It's a fragment of an echo of his mother's voice – overlapped by his father's, his grandfather's. It was true. Hikaru never bothered about anything much aside from his allowance and means to get extra pocket money. Then he met Sai. And Touya. All leading down to the path he now stood on.

"Thank you." He doesn't know what else to say. He watches their retreating back, cringes when the father charges towards him (before getting intercepted by his wife), raises a hand in reply when Saito turns back to wave goodbye.

"So." Touya steps up beside him. A shake of the head. "You kidnapped a child." An arched eyebrow. "To teach him Go."

"…Yes?"

Touya looks down at the magnetic board hanging loosely from his fingers, the fan gripped in the other hand. Looks back up at the bleached bangs shadowing averted eyes.

Hikaru's stomach growls; he laughs, meets Touya's questioning gaze. "Shall we grab dinner?"

Touya shrugs, then nods.

They head towards Touya's car, parked down on the next street.

"Good game today, by the way."

"Thanks."

Side by side in silence, accompanied by the purr of the engine. The sky is already smeared with red, darkening to a deep purple. He squints against the fading orange rays of light, thinks about nothing in particular.

"…_Honinbou_ Shuusaku would have been honoured if he had known." Touya makes a smooth left towards the ramen store they frequent.

Hikaru catches a brief reflection of himself in the window before it vanishes in the blur of movement. The warmth of a tiny hand and the lingering taste of ice cream on his tongue.

"I know."


	5. Chapter 5

Three more days before the second _Honinbou_ title match.

Hikaru presses the chilled can against his forehead, leaning against the vending machine. It's still as hot as ever, and an itch quivers just under his skin.

Ever since he had stumbled across Sai, no, Saito, he'd wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, kick his broken fan and stick his head in the refrigerator. Haunting dreams of his old bedroom and the pale white empty ceiling, days void of a smile greeting him in the morning, nights clear of a slender hand waving towards the Go board for a game.

He drains his drink, heads to the washroom to clear his head. He's been giving tutoring lessons in Go for the past few days at the Institute and it wasn't even with amateur players, just people who had an interest in learning – it was meant to be relaxing, a break between the title matches.

He plunges his hands under the refreshing stream of cold water gushing from the tap, peers into the mirror, tugs at the eye bags darkening his grim expression.

Catches the reflection of Touya's disapproving gaze.

"Oh god!" He cranks the tap shut, straightens. "You scared me."

"Are you really that nervous about teaching middle-aged ladies a few lessons in Go?" Touya pushes the bathroom door open and Hikaru follows, drying his face on a sleeve, earning another glare.

"Shut up." He rubs his eyes. "Have you had lunch?" Touya nods and Hikaru heaves a sigh. "I guess I have to go get my own then." He glances at his watch. "See you later."

"One hour." Touya reminds him.

He waves the other away. "Alright, alright."

The numbers above the elevator door gleam as he descends. Background music chimes quietly; he keeps rhythm, tapping his fan against his thigh. Elevator doors slide open with a ring and he steps out into the lobby. The sales girl in charge of the front today smiles politely and he nods a reply.

Movement catches his eye.

The virtual fish tank has remained the same over the years. A child, tiptoed, has his nose up against the glass as an image of an angel fish swims lazily by.

"Sai?"

The child turns around, waves. "Hikaru!" Points. "Look at the fish!"

Something inside him aches.

"What are you doing here? Did your parents bring you here?" He checks the lobby carefully for the boisterous father.

"Snuck out!" Saito puffs his chest out. "Took the bus all on my own!" Adjusts the straps of his backpack. "I came here to see you!"

"Oh." This does not bode well for him. He squeezes his eyes shut, applies pressure with his fingertips. "Okay." Inhale. "How did you know I was here?"

"This!" Saito whips out Hikaru's name card, jabs at the Go Institute logo. "And this!" He shrugs off his backpack, rummages around, pulls out a crumpled newspaper. It's _Weekly Go_ from last week with a creased picture of Ogata and Hikaru on the front, taken just before the first _Honinbou_ title match.

"Oh." He manages weakly. Coughs, clears his throat. "Sai…" He pauses. "…to. Have you eaten lunch? How about let's get some food?"

"Okay!" The boy runs up to him, slides his small hand into his.

Hikaru tries not to hold on too tightly. "How's sushi sound?"

"Yea!" Saito nods, moving along in a half-job to keep up. "I want to see!" Hand outstretched towards the fan.

"Oh… this?" He finds it easy to turn it over, pats it lightly into the waiting grasp of the child. "Here, you can hold on to it for me."

Saito snaps it open, fans himself with vigour. Hikaru's lips twitch, an edged laugh catches in his throat.

They get to the restaurant and it's fairly busy, the chatter of the afternoon crowd, the welcome cries of the staff. Saito still has his fan captive, now safely shut, anchored in a belt loop like a pretend-sword. "My sister likes sushi too, you know!"

"Sister?" He is barely listening, still holding on to his hand, just watching.

"She's a baby!" A waitress calls their number and they get led to their seats. "But she likes sushi too!" Hikaru nods; that explains the stroller in the park.

The plates pile up in front of Saito while Hikaru helps himself to one or two.

"Saito." He passes over a plate of salmon which the boy empties with a slurp. He tries to pretend he's not crazy. "Do you… remember me?"

"Of course!" The child lowers his chopsticks. "We ran in the park!"

"I mean…" He's not crazy. "From before."

"Before? When?" Saito tilts his head to the side. "When I was really young? When I was four?"

"Um…" Hikaru distracts him with another plate. "No. But that's okay."

Reincarnation? A descendant? The possibilities whir in his head. But it didn't matter. Shouldn't matter.

Saito clears out a hefty number of plates and Hikaru brings him for ice cream again. He takes out the magnetic Go board, lays out the basic rules. The child is attentive, listening, faint smile, warmth radiating off his skin.

Hikaru doesn't know how long it's been. But they play a trial game or two. Or ten. Saito fumbles with the pieces, scatters them all over the floor, laughs, and swings his dangling feet. But he learns quickly, catching onto simples patterns, reading ahead by a move or so.

Light is diming and the store clerk wanders over, chases them away, closes the store. They relocate to a bench. The day melts into another in his memories except this time, their roles are reversed. He takes what Sai said to him – "It's better if this piece goes here-", shapes it in his mouth, releases its weight. Saito reacts in a more compliant manner; he tries holding the pieces correctly, tries forming new but disastrous moves. Hikaru of the past had merely groaned, gotten bored, dived into bed with a comic book, and waved aside teary pleas.

He realizes his cell phone has been vibrating, yanks it out and checks the screen. _Twenty Missed Calls_. He's almost afraid to answer.

"Hello?"

"Shindou." A mountain could have been flattened with that tone.

_The tutoring games…!_ He buries his face in his hand. "Sorry-"

"Sorry?"

"I forgot-"

"Forgot?" It's very nearly a snarl.

"I'll be right there!" He stands, a quick glance at Saito, lining up pieces on the board. "I'll just…"

"How can you be so irresponsible? Do you know that we're being sponsored-?"

"Be right there! Okay! Bye!" He snaps the phone shut, meets Saito's gaze. The boy is looking up at him, a black piece between his fingers.

"Where are you going?"

"You." He picks up the board, sweeps up the pieces. "You are going home. And I… have to get back to work." He leans over. "Where do you live?"

Saito points to a tag hanging off his backpack; his address is printed neatly in a flowery hand. "Okay. Let's get you home."

It's not far – just a few blocks down. It's a clean and new apartment block, row and row of identical flower arrangements outside the doors, umbrella stands, children's bicycles. He very nearly takes the boy's hand and starts running in the opposite direction. Wants to scream _I finally found him again_! Wants to meet that steely gaze across the board, lips hidden by the blades of a fan, listen to the click of pieces against the wooden surface, feel the weight of the stone in a hand.

He tightens his grip, looks down. The eyes that meet his now are a little different, but they're the same.

"But I wanted to play more!" Life after life after life, and some things never change.

He lowers himself to eye level. "We will. As much as you want." He scourges up the receipt from lunch, scribbles his number and home address on the back. Hands it over. "You can come visit me again."

"Okay!" Saito flings himself into a surprise attack hug. Hikaru falls back from the solid weight, the distinct curve of arms around his neck. It's no longer translucent, no longer something his fingers could pass through.

"Don't get into any more trouble. Tell your parents next time." He imagines the panic that's happening in Saito's household now.

The boy detaches himself, grips the straps of his backpack.

"Here." He holds out the magnetic board. "Take this."

Saito grins, hugs it to his chest. "I'll visit! Definitely!"

He ruffles the boy's hair, waves him off as he runs into the apartment building and into the elevator. Keeps waving when he reappears on the second floor, leaning over the railing.

He ducks out of sight around the corner when he hears a high-pitched wail, "Oh- Saito! Where have you been?"

It's completely dark out by the time he walks over to the Go Institute. Touya's silhouette looms by the front door, one foot tapping, arms crossed.

Deep breath.

"Where have you been?" He hisses. "I've had to make up _excuses_ for you when you were running around, probably kidnapping children again-" He stops when he sees the look on Hikaru's face.

"He just dropped by to say hi." He recoils at the intensified glare. "We just went for lunch, then I got… distracted."

"Doing what?" Touya is probably mincing Hikaru in his imagination.

"Playing Go." The answer is simple enough, and something in Touya's face relaxes. "I was teaching him how to play Go, and…" He looks down at his empty hands. Touya follows his gaze, notices as well.

His tone is hesitant – no one, not even Waya, had asked about it but they took it in stride; it wasn't really anything out of the ordinary after all. "Where's your fan?"

A short bark of a laugh. Hikaru curls his fingers into fists, looks past Touya through the glass doors at the faint glow of the virtual fish tank in the lobby.

"Where it belongs."


	6. Chapter 6

A few worried phone calls, repeated assurances, a couple of somewhat testy threats, and it's official.

Hikaru can't help but grin back at the blinding smile beamed up at him. "Hi!" That seems to be as a good a start as any.

"Hi!" The boy peeks past him into the apartment. "This is your house?"

He nods, steps aside, and Saito darts in, kicking off his shoes. Stops when he sees Touya. "Who are you?" Then recognition sweeps over his face. "I saw you at the park too!"

"Nice to meet you." Touya is formal, even when dealing with children. "I'm Touya Akira."

"Are you my Go teacher too?"

Touya shakes his head, rises to his feet. "I should probably get going. Leave you to your lessons." He pauses as he passes Hikaru. "Don't wear yourself out. The title match is tomorrow."

"I know." Hikaru scowls.

A longer pause and Touya eyes the fan poking out of Saito's backpack. Hikaru flaps his arms at him. "Don't you have a lunch appointment with the reporter from _Weekly Go_?"

Touya rolls his eyes and takes his leave. Both Hikaru and Saito watch his car pull away; Saito is nice enough to wave.

Hikaru starts to clear away the game he was discussing with Touya.

"Wow! This is a Go board?" Saito props himself up next to it, spreads his fingers out on the surface.

"I inherited this from my grandfather." A fond pat. "This _goban_'s made from Kaya." He recalls the brief lesson he received from Sai. "It's a type of wood." He adds when he notices the puzzled expression shaping Saito's pout.

They play a few games and Hikaru replays them after, correcting mistakes, making suggestions. Saito is animate in learning, scrambling pieces to make additions to Hikaru's suggestions, coming up with an endless stream of questions.

He teaches him about _kifu_, the time restrictions in games, the _komi_ advantage. Even pulls out an old _kifu_ of Shuusaku's, replays it for Saito, tries to keep his explanations simple. He doesn't know what he'd achieve by doing this, and he doesn't even like to think that Saito is learning quicker than any other eager ordinary child.

They have instant cup noodles for lunch, and Hikaru calls in pizza delivery for dinner. They sit by the _goban_, play for hours, and Saito never seemed to get tired.

"Sai." Hikaru clears away the board again. "Do you want some juice or something?"

The boy has pulled out the fan, fanning himself. "Okay! Orange juice!"

Hikaru pulls open the refrigerator, pours out two glasses.

"Silly Hikaru!"

"What?" He screws the cap back on the orange juice carton, slightly confused.

"You always get my name wrong! It's Saito, not Sai!"

He chokes on a mouthful of juice. "Sorry, sorry. Sai… to. Right."

"But you can call me Sai if you want!" The boy shoves the fan back into his backpack. "I don't mind!"

He takes a seat opposite him across the _goban_, hands over the drink. The boy chirps out a thanks, gulps it down.

Scrutinizes the shape of his eyes, analyzes the memory of his laugh, inspects the tips of fingernails not yet worn down by the Go stones.

_But he's not Sai. Is he?_

Expectations and requests that can never be fulfilled, no longer be met no matter how many replicas of Sai's face was plastered onto someone else's existence. It's another life, and he's no longer the Hikaru Sai first met.

A dull twinge, whatever that's left of hope reborn, covered in dust.

He gives in to this tiny bit of selfishness. "Okay." He reaches over, retrieves the empty glass. "Sai." Points straight at him, and the boy goes cross-eyed following the tip of his finger.

Saito wrinkles his nose. "Hikaru!" Points back.

Laughter amidst the quiet of the room, the rap of stones against the board. The ticking of the clock.

It's nearly midnight before Saito is rubbing his eyes sleepily. Hikaru makes a call to his mother, reassures her that he will get him home.

"But I want to play more!"

Hikaru pauses over the phone.

"I want to play more!"

Rippling echoes in the depths of memory. A request he cannot refuse. His fingers twitch over an absent fan.

Saito runs up, snatches the phone from him. He whines in response to the buzzing coo of his mother's tone. Hikaru pours himself another cup of orange juice, watches the boy's back, hunched over the phone.

_Ding_,and Saito slams the receiver down. "I can stay the night!" He pumps a fist into the air. "Let's play!"

"But you're sleepy." Hikaru moves over to the closet, digs around for old pajamas that may fit the child. He shakes out a faded yellow shirt, a number 5 printed boldly across the front. "Here, get changed into this." He tosses it over.

It's still too baggy for the five-year-old, and the shirt hangs to his knees. Hikaru laughs at him, helps roll up the sleeves. "Better now?"

They play a few more games before Saito's head starts drooping, forehead bumping into the edge of the board. Hikaru gets up and drapes a blanket over the curled figure.

He plays pretend.

Sets out the stones from a washed-out memory, painted over with grief. An unfinished game from so long ago.

"Sai." The name hangs in the air. "Sai." He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, looks over the board. A low whisper. "It's your turn."

Pins down the sleeping outline, the steady rise and fall of breath in the dimness of the room.

There is no answer.

Hikaru's head sinks; he buries his face into the crook of his arm resting on the board.

He doesn't think there ever will be.


	7. Chapter 7

Hikaru groans, "Mm go away…" The doorbell is chiming insistently with a vengeance.

"Mwah… what?" Saito is awake, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Hikaru grunts, crawls to his feet. _Who can that be…?_

He fumbles with the latch, unlocks the door. "Yes..?"

"You!" Touya grabs him by the collar, propelling him back so hard he's nearly lifted off his feet. Hikaru staggers, tripping over the shoes in the entrance way.

"Touya! What are you…" The words die in his throat.

Touya's eyes are glowing with a sharp ferocity, and the grip on the front of his shirt tightens. Then he lets go, and Hikaru crashes to the floor – he yelps at the impact, wincing.

It's not often Touya is at a loss of words. He looks into the room, catches Saito's eye. Renewed anger. Kicks off his shoes and steps towards Hikaru.

He grabs him by the arm, lugs him to his feet, fingers of his other hand digging into his shoulder. "Have. You. Gone. Insane."

Hikaru gulps. Even Saito is scared, cowering behind the _goban_.

"It's a default win for Ogata." Touya inhales, loosens his grip, backs away. "Because you _didn't show up_." Spits out the words.

He spins around, faces Saito. "I'm driving you home."

"But-" A valiant whimpered protest.

"Now." Touya shoves Hikaru aside, away from the door. "And Shindou, stay here." The door slams shut behind them, Saito following Touya dutifully, head bowed.

His knees fold up under him, and Hikaru collapses to the ground with a soft thud. The stones are scattered across the board haphazardly from when he woke up, a few pieces littering the floor. He scoots over, puts them away.

So, a default loss?

He shakes out the blanket, still warm with body heat, folds it up.

He didn't need the _Honinbou_ title. He didn't need these title matches. Now that he had Sai back, it was alright. Everything was alright.

His fingers twitch.

No, it wasn't.

He was lying to himself.

He had chased over Touya for so long, finally reached him, stayed on par, still wanted to surpass him. He did what he did because he wanted to play Go; Sai was in his Go. That had to mean something, didn't it?

Wanted to keep playing because his Go was all that remained of Sai, and it was all of him as well. The past linked to the future through the Hikaru of the present. He thought that he could live with just that.

But…

Saito. Sai. He told himself repeatedly that there were genetic possibilities that someone would look like Sai – after all, it's a big world and an entire millennium. It didn't have to have any significance, didn't have to be anything.

But he had made it something. Taught him Go. Showed him Sai's Go.

He might become an exceptional player, he might not. Professional or amateur. It didn't matter. That wasn't what Sai wanted.

Sai just wanted to play Go. To play the best that he ever could against the best that there ever was.

He rubs his eyes, throws the blanket over his head.

There is a sharp rap at the door – and he's startled awake. He had dozed off without knowing and Touya lets himself in through the unlocked door.

He watches Touya step across the messy room, nudging aside food trays, magazines, and newspapers with his foot.

"Touya." His voice is scraped dry, a croak.

Touya lowers himself onto his knees, shifts the _goban_ between them. Dips into a _goke__1_, _pa-chik_, the invitation of a singular black stone.

Hikaru closes his eyes, slides the blanket off the top of his head. Opens his eyes. Picks up a white stone.

The clock ticks, muted roar of cars passing by, the wind tapping against the glass pane.

Hikaru loses by two _moku_. Leans back and exhales noisily.

"Who is that child?" Touya's gaze is unflinching as Hikaru gathers up the stones.

"You know…" He shrugs. "Met him at the park."

A frustrated noise in the back of the throat. "Why are you so concerned about him? First you skip out on work, then you miss your title match." The click of teeth grinding against each other. "Your title match." He stresses on the words. "Just for some random child." He raps his knuckles against his knee.

Hikaru can't think of an excuse. "I just… just wanted to teach him. Teach him Go."

"Sudden urge to be a mentor?" It's as close as sneering Touya has gotten.

"He… he reminded me of myself."

Touya's eyebrows are knitted together, a crease in his forehead.

"When I first met you at your father's Go salon? Remember?" He laughs, tries to make light of it. "That kid reminds me of- reminds me of who I was then."

It was somewhat true.

"As if I could forget." It's Touya's turn to look away. "Get a hold of yourself. You can't keep this up – this irresponsible behavior, acting on impulse, spending your days teaching Go to a single five-year-old!"

He knows he should be bitter about this default loss. Knows he should be as worked up as Touya, or even more so.

He glances at the phone. But now, he could call Sai and talk to him anytime he wanted, hear him laugh, listen to him whine, play Go with him.

A quick shake of the head.

But he's not Sai. He's not Sai.

He puts a hand on the surface of the board. A bloodstain only he could see. A bloodstain he could no longer see.

Touya is scrutinizing him carefully. "Just… get yourself together, okay?" Worry in the tilt of the head. "The next match is in a week."

Hikaru tries to laugh it off. "I'll set my alarm three hours ahead." Touya hasn't stopped staring.

"Let's replay this game." Hikaru flourishes a nearby newspaper. "It was quite interesting. Fourth of the _Meijin_ title matches, isn't it?" He skims over the article, picks up a stone. "What would your father say if he saw this?"

An age past, the rejuvenation of a world once thought to be stagnant.

A shadow of a smile. "You're trying to change the topic." He accused.

"I know!" Hikaru shrugs. Puts down a stone. "I'll behave from now on, mother."

"I am not…! Don't make fun of me." Touya frowns. "It's for your own good." A quieter tone. "Are you forgetting what you're supposed to do?"

His hand halts over the board. "Supposed to do…"

"Your job. Your goals and ambitions." Touya flattens out a fold in his sleeve. "Your Go."

It is a straightforward and seemingly obvious statement.

"I haven't forgotten."

Lips twitch. "That's good." A glance down at the stones extending across the board. "My father…" Heaving a sigh, Touya picks up a stone, helps Hikaru in replaying the game. "He would have enjoyed it."

Hikaru nods in agreement, taps another stone down. "Decisive, isn't this?" Touya leans forward, an all too welcome change of expression spreading over his face.

From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of white - something Saito left behind. Stretches out, grasps it, nestles it in his hand.

The frame is a little worn, paper slightly creased.

The solid shape of a fan.

Not Sai's.

His.

1 Container for holding Go stones


	8. Chapter 8

"Wake up!"

It seems like he had barely fallen asleep before being woken up. He groans, rolls over, yanks the pillow over his head. Granted, he didn't drink enough the night before to have a hangover but the voice in his ear was definitely doing damage.

"Hikaru!" A fist collides with his shoulder as his blanket is torn from him.

He squeezes his eyelids together, swiping at thin air with his feet. "That's… Hikaru _Honinbou_, to you!"

Hikaru grunts when a stray foot tramples on him on the way to the window and the curtains are yanked apart. The window latch clicks open and dim light washes over his face along with a cool dawn breeze.

"St… stop!" He whines, hunkers down deeper into the mattress.

"Work!" The pillow is wrenched away. "Remember?" There is a clatter by the sink; the tap is running and lemon-scented dish soap wafts through the cramped apartment.

"Touya will be there too. All you have to do is help in leading the discussion!" Squeak of sponge against wet glass. "It can't be that difficult!"

"Is that a note of reverence I detect? Should I get Touya to sign you an autograph?" Hikaru rolls over again, off the mattress, flopping onto the floor. "Just wait until you have to do things like this too." He hauls himself upright, yawning.

"For someone with a name like yours, you sure are grumpy." Coffee is being brewed, and there is the whir of the toaster running. "You'll get white hair faster, you know." An unnecessary addition.

"What?" Hikaru scrambles to his feet and staggers to the mirror. "I do? I don't see any!" A slight note of panic quavers in his voice as he rakes his hands through his hair. Then he sees the reflected grin behind him in the mirror.

"Relax." Toast is being served, butter on the side just the way Hikaru likes it. "I was joking."

"That wasn't funny." Hikaru takes a bite, wandering around in search for fresh laundry. "Where's my jacket?" He is waved in the right direction and just as he's pulling the shirt over his head, the phone rings.

"I'll get it… Hello? Touya! Good mor- yes, yes he's awake now. He'll be leaving soon- yes, I'll make sure he catches the bus. Thanks for making the call!" Faint click as the phone drops back over the receiver.

Hikaru is chased out in time and makes it to the Institute five minutes before the discussion starts. Spectators are already seated and Touya is on stage by the presentation board, a professional smile plastered on his face. His searching gaze meets Hikaru's, and concealed irritation gusts over. Hikaru hurries on stage, bowing and apologizing sheepishly.

The morning goes by smoothly; the game was well-balanced and the lower ranked player did well in holding his own.

Touya has brought a lunch from home, as well as a spare. He passes it over with a low mutter, "I knew you wouldn't be prepared." They snap open their chopsticks; Hikaru shovels a sheet of fried egg into his mouth. Touya is as dainty as he was when Hikaru first saw him eat – chewing in small, measured bites. He watches as Touya lowers his chopsticks and takes a sip of tea from a thermos that he also prepared beforehand. He can barely remember how long ago it was when they first met, when they first acknowledged each other as constants in their lives. Running down parallel paths that eventually overlapped, routes worn down over time. It was probably more than fifteen years ago…?

"What are you thinking about?"

"Uh… " Hikaru swallows noisily. "How old we are."

Touya frowns, opens his mouth but is interrupted.

"Touya! How are the kids? And the wife?" A burly fellow professional sweeps up, sliding up to the table and dropping into a chair. Touya is distracted by making polite conversation as Hikaru polishes off the rest of his lunch. He excuses himself and waves away others who pop by for small talk.

He goes down to the lobby, stands by the virtual fish tank, dials home on his cell phone.

"It's a weekday! What are you doing home?" He attacks as soon as the call is answered.

"I work part-time! That doesn't mean I have to work every day!" The television is playing in the background. "Besides, the video rental store where I work at isn't open today." A slight pause as the television is either muted or switched off. "Why would you even call if you thought I'd be at work?"

Hikaru shrugs, remembers that he's on the phone, decides to forget about it. "Alright, I have to go now."

He meets up with Touya again and the rest of the work day crawls by at a reasonable pace. They go out for ramen for dinner – Touya has to leave early; one of the boys has caught the flu. He pays for the meal – "Sorry I can't drive you home."

Hikaru shrugs, orders a second helping, grins through a mouthful of pork. Touya shakes his head while hiding a smile and waves goodnight as he ducks out of the store. It's a quiet night and Hikaru takes his time devouring a third bowl before heading home.

The street lights cast pools of pale yellow on the sidewalk; Hikaru tries to jump from one to another. He trips and nearly falls flat on his face. Something slides out of his pocket, clatters to the ground. It's a magnetic Go board.

He dusts it off, tucks it away. Skips on.

From the street, he can tell that the lights in the apartment are still on. "Have you eaten?" A welcome greeting when he unlocks the door and lets himself in.

"You're still here?" He takes off his jacket, dumps it in a corner. "Maybe you should go home; your mother is worried sick."

"How would you know?" The owner of the voice is slurping cup noodles, crouched in front of the television.

"She called."

"Liar." The television is set to mute. A finger jabbed towards the window. "Did you see?"

Hikaru leans out the window, squints against the darkness. "Nope. Can't see anything."

"Hey…" His attention is caught by the undercurrent of seriousness. "Let's play." A dusty _goban_ dragged out of the corner.

"It's late and I'm tired." Hikaru rolls his shoulders back, stretched. "We can play tomorrow."

"I want to play." A foot nudging his. "Now."

Hikaru frowns at the unusual insistence; it had been a while since they played after a lagging interest over the past few years. He decides to oblige and sits down.

"Pass them over." Hikaru gestures to the two _goke_ on the other side of the board.

"Wait." _Pa-chik_. Rap of stones on the surface and Hikaru realizes that a game is being replayed. He yawns, watches through bleary eyes.

_Pa-chik_.

Inhale.

_Pa-chik_.

Exhale.

_Pa-chik_.

Hikaru stops breathing, leans forward. He knows this game. The game spreading out before his eyes – dreamed of it, cried over it, replayed it a thousand times.

"You showed this to me… what, ten years ago?" A nostalgic nod. "I remember being really sleepy… but it stuck with me… somehow."

_Pa-chik_.

Hikaru's voice is strained. "You remember?"

A light-hearted laugh. "Surprising, huh? Seeing as how I have a bad memory."

_Pa-chik_.

"Okay." A _goke_ is pushed towards him. "Let's play from here."

Hikaru picks up a stone, drops it, picks it up again. His hand trembles, a prickle snaking its way up his arm. Finds a path,_ pa-chik_.

Paths to life are created, destroyed, rebuilt, raided, sabotaged. Deft parries are made, and even Hikaru finds it a close call when he's ducking just out of sight for a surprise attack. Chasing his opponent blindly down dead ends only to find that the wall has been knocked down and new doors are being opened.

His lips twitch. A breath.

It's been a while since he played like this. Running all over the board, dancing and dodging and fighting. There is no need to make polite professional balanced moves; he takes risks, head dives off a cliff, finds a parachute strapped to his back.

Sees the glimmer of all the possibilities that he has, drowns in it, takes it all in.

So long.

Palms damp, a bead of perspiration sliding down the nape of his neck. Attack – a quick parry.

The night lightens.

He's not sure about whether or not they've included _komi_ or if there was supposed to be a time limit.

The game winds down – he hadn't been really counting, hadn't noticed – had just ran all the way with all his might.

Hikaru puts down the last piece, starts arranging the pieces for counting territory. Can't stop the tremble in his fingers, not from the shadows of the past but simply sheer joy. He had never felt so engaged in a game before, not for a long while. Takes a deep breath.

He lost by half a _moku_.

There is no sense of defeat – he had seen paths he couldn't have seen before, ran down alleyways and dodged bullets he never believed he could.

But. There is surprise.

He looks up at his opponent.

"Sai."

Blinks, rubs at his weary eyes.

Day is breaking, thin strips of orange flickering over their faces.

The blurry memory of a face softens, melts into a more youthful expression that's solid around the edges.

Saito smiles back.

"…Saito." Hikaru has given up on the old nickname, given up on many things along the way to this very moment. Yet, he had earned so much more, learned so much more.

"Thank you for the game."

Hikaru echoes his statement, stammers it.

"I should go." The teenager stands. Hikaru nods, mute.

Saito stoops down by Hikaru's jacket, fishes out the magnetic Go board that he had been carrying. "Hey, it's my old board." A quiet laugh. "Can I get it back?"

Another nod.

Wavering figures of carp streamers swimming against the wind outside the window, just from the corner of the eye.

"Hikaru."

Outlined by the light streaming in from the open doorway, a blinding shadow.

"It was fun."

His vision blurs and he raises his hand halfway to his face. Then he lets it drop.

The door shuts.

* * *

It doesn't take long before the apartment starts to feel empty. Hikaru moves to another apartment block closer to the Institute – Touya offers to drive but he declines and rents a van.

He clears out his home; finds Saito's old sweater and has no choice other than to throw it out. He was used to the teenager dropping by every day after school, and as the years crawled on, it didn't seem to matter whether or not Saito had moved, or whether or not he had gotten a new cell phone number. Hikaru didn't ask, and Saito didn't mention it. A singular constant entity by his side.

Hikaru thought that he learnt not to take things for granted.

Apparently not.

He swung by the most recent address that Saito had given him – they had already moved out and without his cell phone number, Hikaru spent twenty minutes staring down at the old sweater, and then tossed it out.

Next year rolls around, and Hikaru finds himself scanning the list of new _Insei_ for a familiar name. He goes online, loiters at websites, searching for an old name long forgotten.

Summer draws in.

He looks through the record of people taking the professional examination.

Time wanders past.

He keeps looking until he's sure that it's time to give up; the boy is probably too old by now – he can't be sure anymore. There is little to no chance that the younger boy would even remember, would even want to invest his future in a direction that Hikaru pointed him towards.

Once, he thinks he catches a glimpse of Saito amongst a crowd of high-school students. That laugh, that gleam in the eyes. But it is lost in the moment, and Hikaru's train of thought is diverted by a question from Touya as they drive by the school gates.

He defends his _Honinbou_ title over the years, finally gives it up.

Takes a vacation and catches a flight to Innoshima for the second time in his life.

He stands before a weathered grave, watches the clouds drift by.

Cicadas scream.

He kneels, places his fingertips against grooves in the stone. Carved words that no longer retained their shape, no longer held meaning. Moss flakes off at his touch, stains his nails a light fairy green.

He puts his fan down at the base of the gravestone.

Tears like glitter on his cheeks, drying up as salt on his lips.

If he had a choice, he'd relive this all over again.


End file.
